The Halls of Hogwarts Hold Many Secrets
by Sara L.J
Summary: Calixte never knew what was to come that night, when she went on her walk through the halls of Hogwarts. But then, neither did Draco. And neither of them knew how it would change them forever. OotP. Lemon. WIP. Promise she's not a Mary Sue. :
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Revision 2.1: Calixte has existed for a long time as a roleplaying character and a Hufflepuff. The whole Gryffindor-Slytherin rivarly thing, though fun, is a bit overdone, so I switched her back to her original house and made some corrections to reflect that. I also more accurately defined the timeline, making this take place during OotP with Calix being a year older than the central characters. Also had some issues with verb agreements left over from an earlier draft. Hope you guys like it._

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><p>The copper lamps cast a homey glow over the otherwise dank Hufflepuff dormitories, morning invisible from the cellar dorms. Potted plants flourished on nearly every surface. The pleasant hum of activity filled the room as its occupants dressed for the day, chatting about classes to come. Beds were made with haphazard care only to be rumpled again by girls sitting to pull on their tights.<p>

Calixte woke with a start, breathing hard, sweat soaking her pajamas. She had dreamt of terrible things again, things she could not name. Shaken, she got up, tied her dressing gown around her waist, and headed for the bathrooms. She needed a bath. Her nightmare came back to her in flashes, and it was one she had had many times.

_She is running. She is alone. Terror and despair grip her, their intensity remaining even after she wakes._

She settled into the warm water with a sigh. She had a free period in the morning, meaning she had the bathroom to herself.

_They are after her. She sees her mother, arms outstretched, calling out to her. Her mother's face holds affection, something Calixte has never seen on her. She finds her mother's embrace and it is so inviting. She feels safe. And then her mother twists in agony as she is sliced asunder by an unseen assassin…_

Calixte splashed her bathwater over her face to rouse herself and washed her long sable curls in the suds. She stepped out, dripping, and braced herself for the oncoming day.

_..._

Calixte shifted in bed. She was sitting upright, propped against the headboard, and had been for some time. Her eyelids were not even the smallest bit heavy. She did not feel drowsy; she felt restless.

She shifted again and frowned. One of her roommates murmured softly in her sleep.

Sighing, Calixte leaned forward in bed, checking to see if anyone else was awake. As she forced her senses into acuity, she fingered the edge of her ugly patchwork quilt. She peered into the darkness, ears piqued to the slightest sound. She saw nothing but the rise and fall of steady breathing, heard nothing but the tranquil hush of sleeping bodies.

Quietly as she could—for she could be very quiet—Calixte stood, changed into her uniform, foregoing her sweater and tie, and picked up her shoes by their utilitarian straps. She could be much stealthier without the clunky, childish things. She had hated them since she first saw them, six years ago on Diagon Alley.

She slipped out of her room and made her way up out of the cellar, following hall after staircase, flagstones chilling her sock-feet. The halls were dimly lit at best and deserted. She liked being this alone. Part of her wished the whole world was like nighttime, people sleeping their lives away like Rip Van Winkle, while Calixte is living day to day in complete peace and solitude. _Life would be so much easier that way,_ she thought to herself. _Ah, well. Being nocturnal will have to do._

She made her way up one last staircase before the library. Paintings dozed on either side of her, some snoring, some muttering unintelligibly. She had the way memorized and her night vision was better than most, so a _Lumos_ charm was rather unnecessary. She stepped off the last step, sat down, and put on her shoes, thinking it would look a little odd at this point. Also, her feet were getting rather cold.

And then, footsteps. She froze, ready to flee. Closer the footsteps came, brisk, unmerciful. She peeked cautiously around the corner, eyes wide. She saw immaculate white-blonde hair and Slytherin robes. _Malfoy,_ she breathed. As she stood and turned on her heel to make her escape, a familiar voice rang out.

"You! I saw you. No sense running away now."

Calixte stopped and grimaced, defeated. He may not know her name, but he _was_ in her Charms class, and he would probably recognize her the next day.

"Now, what exactly are you doing out of your dormitory at this hour?" he demanded when he caught up with her.

"I could ask the same of you," she snapped, defiant. "_I_ was headed to the library. What are you doing out, anyway? I have insomnia. What's your excuse?"

His face softened into puzzlement. "What's 'insomnia?' Is that a Muggle thing?"

"I guess so," Calixte shrugged. "I just can't sleep."

"Ah. You're pretty for a Mudblood," he jeered.

Before she could stop herself, Calixte found her open palm flying through the air and connecting with Malfoy's face.

Malfoy flushed scarlet with rage, eyes watering. His hand shot out, grabbed a fistful of her robe, and threw her against the side of the staircase. He drew his wand, pushing it threateningly into her stomach.

"Fucking bitch," Malfoy hissed.

Meanwhile, Calixte's hand crept into the folds of her robe and closed around her wand. "_Expelliarmus_," she breathed.

Malfoy's wand clattered across the stones. Grinning maliciously, he reached out and wrenched her wand from her, tossing it aside.

Panic welled in the pit of Calixte's stomach. She swung wildly at Malfoy, striking him about the chest and shoulders.

He seemed to watch her for a moment before catching her wrists and slamming them against the stones, moving closer to still her with his weight. She whimpered in pain and fear.

"I'll teach you a fucking lesson," he warned. "And don't even think about screaming."

And then he leaned down and bit her hard on the neck. Calixte yelped, knees going weak. He slipped both wrists into one hand and held her head steady with the other as he kissed her, surprisingly gentle, tongue tracing the inside of her lips. Calixte suddenly felt strange. Her terror began to dissipate and her body gave way. The urge to run left her. And she wanted him. Her hands wriggled in his grasp, only wanting to be free so they could pull him closer.

He pulled away, looking into her unearthly blue eyes. Where he expected fear, he only saw desire. Intrigued, he asked, "Are you… _enjoying_ this?"

Calixte said nothing, averting her gaze.

"Do you want more, you little slut?" he teased, smirking.

She nodded slowly, eyes downcast.

Without warning, his hand plunged between her legs, feeling the heat and wetness of her. "You do like this," he remarked. In response, she moaned softly, eyes closing.

"No. You look at me," Malfoy demanded. The hand that had been occupied in her knickers darted up and grabbed her face. "I want to see those lovely eyes of yours as I make you mine." She obeyed.

"Please, let go of my hands," she pleaded. Malfoy clicked his tongue—"tsk tsk tsk"—and shook his head, admonishing her.

His hand slid up and down the outside of her thigh, teasing. He slipped her robe off her shoulders, and it landed in a pile on the floor. Malfoy cupped her breast through her shirt and nipped at the soft skin of her neck, Calixte sighing into his hair. His nimble fingers did away with the buttons of her blouse with ease, even one-handed as he was, and he kissed the tops of her breasts, unhooking her bra and throwing it aside. Leaning back, he took in the sight of her, creamy skin bare from the waist-up. And then, he devoured her smoothness, tongue flicking her nipples. She arched against him, groaning with pleasure. Everything was happening so fast. She'd never felt so alive, so free of thought. One of his hands ventured to her knickers, delving into them and touching her in her most private places. She moaned outright, surprising herself. He kissed her greedily, tongue probing. He moved inch by inch down her body, gracefully separating her hands and bringing them back together at the small of her back. His lips were caressing the velvety skin of her stomach when he stopped abruptly. He placed one of her long legs over his shoulder, allowing her skirt to pool at her waist. He freed her of her knickers, letting them slide with painful slowness down to the floor. Instinctively her knees went together as best they could. He pulled them apart and touched her in between her thighs, slowly sliding one finger into her. Her hips bucked and she moaned again. His mouth lowered onto her wetness, teasing her with his lips and tongue. His finger found a steady pace and was soon joined by another. She was screaming silently, in complete ecstasy but trying to remain quiet. She felt an unfamiliar tingling feeling that spread from her womanhood down her legs and throughout her body. And then, she came, her insides spasming around Malfoy's fingers.

He set her down and stood up, a peculiar smile on his face.

"Are you ready?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

Calixte nodded, still shaky from her last climax.

He unzipped his slacks and took out his member. It was painfully hard and Calixte found herself drawn to it. Before she could touch it, Malfoy lifted her up and plunged into her.

She cried out in mixed pain and pleasure, her legs and arms wrapping around him.

"Are you alright?" he checked.

"Yes. Please, don't stop," she whimpered.

He pumped into her again. She groaned as softly as she could.

As he gained speed, Calixte found herself reaching another peak. Suddenly she found herself turned around, bare breasts pressed to the stones. Draco bent her over, wrists still bound by his strong hand, and slid inside her once again. He thrusted hard, and she nearly cried out, her voice stifled by biting her own lip. She felt she was losing control, spiraling into something blindly primal. And then she could hold on no longer.

"Draco," she purred as she came around him.

"Calix," he answered, joining her.

Even in the haze of her climax, she was surprised to hear her nickname from his lips.


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: A short chapter to keep things going, with a cliffhanger! Let me know if I miss any errors or should make edits. Love! 3_

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><p>Calix awoke to someone shaking her. She opened her eyes to the plain face of Hannah Abbot, her dishwater-blonde hair frizzy as always.<p>

"Calixte, wake up. You're in the common room," the Prefect said, concerned. "Why are you sleeping in here?"

She sat up on the overstuffed sofa, wiping the sleep out of her eyes. Her clothes were disheveled, her tie and sweater missing. Late morning sunlight shined through the high-set basement windows, illuminating the translucent leaves of Professor Sprout's greenery.

"That's a good question," Calixte replied, more to herself than to Hannah. The night came suddenly flooding back, and, without thinking, she pressed the bruise on her neck where Malfoy had bitten her. If it weren't for the dull ache it gave at her touch, she could have sworn the whole thing was only a dream.

The Prefect made a motherly tut and ushered Calix back into the dormitories to gather her things. Calixte supposed the girl was used to this, after all these years of waking to Calixte's screams in the dark. Nothing Calix could do at night would surprise any Hufflepuff anymore, especially the girls. She was an oddity, a one-woman phenomenon. And it didn't exactly make her popular.

She dressed wordlessly, trying without success to smooth out the wrinkles in her shirt with her sweaty palms. Her brush tore through her matted raven hair, and she twisted it into a messy braid. She took this private moment to investigate the mark Malfoy had left in her hand mirror. She grimaced and tightened her tie as far as it would go, mortified. It was a splotchy mix of purples and blues, unmistakable in color and placement as a lovebite.

A knock came at the door. Hannah's voice reminded her though the circular door to hurry along. Not one to be late, Calix slung her worn-out bookbag over her shoulder and followed the Prefect out of the basement commons and into the bustling halls.

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><p>The high-pitched voice of Professor Flitwick cut through the silence like a knife. Calix's quill scratched across the margins of her textbook, doodling hearts, stars, and little animals. She had gotten remarkably good at articulating such things in quill as to avoid suspicion. This was probably why she had failed her Charms O.W.L. and remained in a fifth-year class. Then again, she had never had the brain for such theory-based subjects, even in Muggle schools.<p>

On the bright side, it put her in a classroom with none other than Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived. He was surprisingly ordinary, and any proficiency she had expected to see from him was overshadowed by Hermione Granger's insistence on being the best at everything.

Professor Flitwick asked the classroom a question, and before he was even done speaking, Hermione's hand shot up in the air. The other students collectively rolled their eyes. She looked positively smug as another ten points were awarded to Gryffindor. Surprise, surprise.

She felt someone staring, and she turned to find Draco Malfoy's steel-grey eyes trained on her. She blushed and looked away. _Did anyone else see him looking at her? Did anyone else know?_

The class came to an end and Calix filed out with the other students. In the commotion, someone slipped a note into her empty hand.

Later, alone in the hall, Calixte felt safe enough to open the note.

_Calix,_

_Meet me in the Room of Requirement tonight._

_Draco_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Sorry for the long wait! I've had a bit of the writer's block and my life has been a mess.  
><em>

As soon as Calix left her final class of the day, she bustled down the kitchen corridor, back to her dormitory, her dark robes billowing behind her. Malfoy's note, though written on the finest lightweight parchment galleons could buy, felt like a heavy stone in her robe pocket. She stopped at the stack of barrels marking the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room, knocking a hasty rhythm on the barrel two from the bottom. The barrel lid swung open and she crawled through, shutting it behind her.

Her bookbag vomited stray assignments and quills as it struck the bedpost. The Hufflepuff did not give it a second glance; her attention was somewhere else entirely. She unfolded the letter to reread Draco's spidery script.

_Meet me in the Room of Requirement tonight._

She worried the parchment between her thumb and forefinger, deep in thought. _Should I go?_ Calix vacillated. _Do I even want to go?_ Goosebumps crept across her skin at the thought of the previous night, reminding her that, yes, she wanted to meet him more than anything—even if it meant more lovebites to hide.

By the cover of nighttime, Calix once again slipped out of her dormitory, night-vision impeccable. Her destination was different from previous nights. She rounded the final corner and came to a halt at a seemingly innocuous wall. The girl stared intently at this wall, and thought very, very hard about a certain Slytherin. A wrought-iron frame grew and twisted from the stone, then was pushed forward as wooden planks began to expand behind its bars. Suddenly, a door stood where there was previously nothing. She crept inside, and the door disappeared behind her as quickly as it had appeared.

The Room of Requirement was lit by dim candlelight, probably a rather clichéd attempt at mood lighting. Inside the room, Calixte found a large four-poster bed, decorated with the finest linens and strewn with pillows. Draco was nowhere to be found.

_I've beaten him here,_ she thought to herself, a trace of smugness playing across her face.

She crossed the room, slipped her shoes off, and sat down among the multitude of pillows. As the bed sunk with her weight, every pillow on the bed seemed to pile around her. She batted ineffectually at them before giving up and pulling one into her lap to fiddle with its fringed edges. She waited.

Not ten minutes went by before the sound of the heavy door opening and shutting alerted her to Malfoy's arrival. He crossed the room briskly as always, slipping his robe off his shoulders, pulling his sweater over his head, loosening his tie, and kicking off his shoes without even breaking his gait.

"Good evening, little mouse," he purred as he reached her, and his lips came crashing down onto hers.

His cool hands roamed across her body, slipping under the hem of her skirt, as he pushed her back onto the bed with his weight. He loosened her tie as well and cast it aside, his body between her legs. She kissed and licked and nipped at his neck, reveling in the smell of his skin and her own boldness. He pulled away to unbutton her blouse, smirking at the sight of her.

"I never get tired of these uniforms," he chuckled. He unbuttoned the remaining buttons and ravished her exposed chest, hands delving into the cups of her innocent white cotton bra.

She groaned at the attention, and, surprising herself, flipped him onto his back, straddling him. He smirked again, eyebrow raised. She unbuttoned his shirt, kissing down his chest, and he sat up and cast it aside. She reached the trail of blonde hair from his navel leading downwards and began to unbuckle his belt. His eyes danced with a wicked light, intrigued. She unzipped the fly of his slacks and slid her hand down his flat stomach, wrapping it around his already-hard cock. His breath hissed through his teeth. She began to rub it slowly, watching his reactions. His hips bucked against her, wanting more, and she was more than ready to give it. She peeled back his boxer-briefs and wrapped her mouth around him, moving with agonizing slowness. He groaned, his fingers finding their way into her raven hair, twining around her curls.

Finally he could stand it no more, and pulled her up by her hair to meet her lips with his. She yelped at the delicious mixture of pleasure and pain. He undressed her hastily and slipped a hand between her thighs, exploring her folds. She groaned, her head falling back.

"You're already wet for me, are you?" he growled. When she didn't respond, he grabbed a fistful of her long hair and gave a good tug, causing her to yelp again.

"You're wet for _me_, yes?"

She nodded.

"Then say it."

She blushed and closed her eyes. "I'm-… I'm wet for you, Malfoy."

"That's much better," he congratulated her, and as a reward, his finger plunged into her. She cried out, his finger pumping in and out of her, soon to be joined by another.

He shifted beneath her so that she straddled his pelvis and began to tease her opening with his cock. She mewled, biting her lip.

"Do you want more?" he asked.

"Yes," she groaned.

"Tell me what you want."

"I want you-… I want-… I want you to-… fuck me."

"Ask, and you shall receive."

She gasped as he thrust into her, still not used to his size. Something between a sob and a moan escaped her, and he slowly began to rock his hips into her.

As he gained momentum, she began to move her hips to meet his. He stopped.

"Ride me until you cum," he commanded.

She ground on top of him, her moans growing breathier and breathier until she climaxed, spasming around him. She collapsed on top of him, panting hard.

"My turn," he hissed, and flipped on top of her, one hand clasping firmly around her throat. He began to thrust hard and fast, and just as she climaxed a second time, he came, his guttural groan echoing off the walls.

"Calix," he whispered again, and pulled her close to him.


End file.
